


had we but world enough, and time

by InkBlotAngel



Series: time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Marvel
Genre: Badass Captains of Time-Traveling Ships, Crossover, Gen, I Figured Out What's Wrong with Melinda May, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Time Travel, also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkBlotAngel/pseuds/InkBlotAngel
Summary: A considerable amount of time can get rather lonely when you keep only a sentient Chronicom for company, your team is stuck in the past, and you can't know where (or when) the man you love is.Jemma Simmons turns to a friend.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons & Sara Lance
Series: time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790437
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	had we but world enough, and time

**Author's Note:**

> Slipped in the tiniest crossover in my last work, and people really liked that so I was encouraged to explore it a bit further. While this stands on its own, you’re welcome to read the other one! (please do)
> 
> Set between season six and seven of _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ Also, I'm three episodes behind this season of _Legends of Tomorrow_ , so any mistakes, I claim. EDIT post 7x04: Well, obviously their explanation for Melinda May is WAY better, but this was fun to make up anyway.
> 
> Title from “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvell.

_49°27'41.0"N, 80°03'40.0"W_

_Now_

The jump ship descends smoothly in a small clearing, its landing gear making a soft dent in the thick snow. There were no signs of life in the Canadian wilderness, only an endless vista of pine trees and even more snow stretching into the shadowy mountains on the horizon, then to the cloudy gray skies.

A figure, cloaked in deep purple winter gear, emerges from behind one of the trees and slowly approaches the vessel, footsteps deliberate yet cautious. A hand was buried in one of the coat’s pockets, fingers wrapped around an ICER. _Just in case_.

The doors swing open with a whoosh, and the person freezes, eyes sharp and body tense as the lone passenger steps down, equally bundled in warm clothes, ice blond hair billowing in the harsh wind. At the sight, so familiar yet long-missed that it hurts, Jemma Simmons finally relaxes, letting go of the ICER to push back her hood, revealing herself to her visitor.

“Hey, Jemma,” Sara Lance’s warm smile is a striking contrast to the freezing atmosphere, and Jemma rushes forward, landing in the other woman’s embrace. “Wow, okay,” she laughs at the sudden assault, arms wrapping easily around the scientist’s shoulders. “Careful there, gorgeous. I have a girlfriend now.”

Jemma couldn’t even bring herself to snort at that, instead burying her nose into Sara’s hair, breathing in the scent of another human being—so comforting after all these long months of being alone and only having a Chronicom for company, despite Enoch being as lifelike as he is. “I’m so happy to see you,” her voice breaks a little as she attempts to hold back a sob.

Sara doesn’t quite know yet what’s going on here, but understanding Jemma’s urgent need for connection, she hugs her a little tighter. “I’m here,” she whispers reassuringly, fingers twirling with soft brown curls. “I got you.”

* * *

_39.1582° N, 75.5244° W_

_Then_

Jemma sits alone in the bar, offering an appreciative smile at the bartender after he places a gin and tonic in front of her. It’s her first Friday night after being undercover at HYDRA, and to say she’s exhausted would be an understatement. The workload she can handle just fine, but having to keep up a face and pretend S.H.I.E.L.D. was behind her was extremely challenging, especially when lying doesn’t just come naturally to her.

This is the first night she could let her guard down a little, though not by much. She takes a sip from her drink and sighs deeply, wondering how everyone was back at the Playground, Fitz especially. It was hard to leave him behind in that state, but everyone agreed it was for the best that she goes away for a while, be more productive elsewhere. There were so many things left unsaid between the two of them, she didn't even know when they could sit down and talk like they used to.

She observes the bar out of the corner of her eye. Melinda May had prepared her for undercover as best as she could, squeezing in as many lessons and training in the one week they had before Jemma had to leave. Out of all the crash courses Jemma went through, they both discovered she proved particularly adept at surveillance.

A smarmy gentleman sitting in the corner. A young couple sitting by the window. The brunette lady at the end of the bar was a familiar face at the HYDRA Laboratories often seen alongside Mr. Bakshi— _wow, they’re not even trying here_ , she muses.

Jemma was debating whether to stay for a second drink with all these tails on her when a blond woman takes the empty stool next to her and signals for the bartender. “There’s a creepy looking guy who looks like he’s about to pounce on you any minute now,” the stranger murmurs, eyes fixed on the liquor collection behind the bar. “Look, I don’t want to presume you’re a girl who needs saving, but if you want to fend him off by pretending you have company, my name’s Sara.”

Sara has it all wrong, but Jemma’s not about to get into that with a complete stranger—who, for all she knew, could have been sent after her too. Easier to go along with it, she decides, turning to her new companion. "Sara?" she wonders, breaking into a smile. "Is that really you?"

To her credit, Sara’s great at pretending they actually knew each other despite not knowing her name. “Hey!” she exclaims without hesitation, eyes lighting up with feigned familiarity—really good, Jemma keeps her guard up. “Wow, I haven’t seen you in ages! You’re a long way from England, what on earth are you doing here in Dover?”

“Work,” Jemma replies easily. “I moved here recently actually and was hoping to bump into you one of these days.” If only May could see her now, and Skye and Coulson, they’d be proud of her lying skills. “Never thought it’d be this soon!”

Sara laughs, graciously accepting her drink from the bartender. “You weren’t stood up by anyone, were you? Because if you were, I owe him one for getting you all to myself tonight,” a pause. “Or her.”

For the first time since their charade began, Jemma feels a little flustered. “Oh, no,” she replies, blushing slightly. Was Sara flirting with her? “No, it’s not like that,” she distracts herself with a dainty sip of her drink, suddenly unsure how to continue. “It’s just that it’s my first week at the new job and I really wanted to unwind, but I was never the type of girl who drinks alone in a bar, so…”

Sara's smile is warm yet casual, and Jemma suddenly wishes she could only be so cool. "Well, you're still not the type of girl who drinks alone in a bar," she says cheerfully, signaling the bartender for two shots of tequila. “I got you.”

* * *

_Now_

“What is this place?” Sara wonders as they step into the base, finally away from the blistering cold. Her blue eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, seeing the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo branding on literally everything she could see.

For a secret organization, they sure were subtle.

Behind her, Jemma locks the doors with a tap of her lanyard, then shakes off the snow from her hair, sending droplets of ice-cold water on the concrete floor. “This is Providence. It’s one of our secret bases established right after the Chitauri invasion in New York,” she explains. “The Special Forces actually seized this from us a few years ago, but General Talbot gave it back when S.H.I.E.L.D. was reformed.”

Providence was huge, too big in fact for just her and Enoch, so they’ve sequestered a small wing of the base for their use. Still, it was a maze of long hallways and confusing turns before the pair finally reached what looked like a recreation room, filled with warm lighting, deep brown couches, oversized throw pillows, and the minibar at the corner had wooden accents that completed the homey feeling so unlike the rest of the base.

Enoch was standing just beyond the door, ready to welcome the ladies. “Captain Lance,” he greets, offering a hand to Sara. “My name is Enoch, and I am a sentient Chronicom and trusted friend.”

Looking a little puzzled, Sara glances briefly at Jemma who nods, before she accepts Enoch’s hand in a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Enoch. Err, what is a Chronicom?”

“We’ve a lot to catch up on,” Jemma sighs, smiling tightly. “Enoch makes a really good Barracoolada, d’you want to try?”

She doesn’t even bother asking what a Barracoolada is.

-

The women were settled on the biggest couch in the room, legs tangled with each other’s under the fleece throw Enoch had thoughtfully provided for them before he turned in for the night. Not that he needed actual sleep or anything, but he respects Jemma’s human need to spend time with someone else, so he takes the opportunity to download some skill packs and run some upgrades on his system.

It’s been six months since the Temple of the Forgotten—well, for him and Simmons. For the rest of the team, the version that was still alive anyway, they were suspended in time and waiting for them to intervene. The Life Model Decoy of one Phillip J. Coulson was in its earliest stages (having spent most of their time these past few months arguing whether to push through with it or not) while the serum May will need to survive wasn’t quite there yet. As for Fitz… well, they can’t know, and even though Enoch isn’t actually programmed to feel emotions, he’s feeling what humans would call bereft.

So when Jemma asks to take a night off and meet a friend, he thinks he understands and promises, without her asking, to stay out of their way. But he’s left them a huge pitcher of his famous Barracoolada, and he’d like to think that, as the humans like to say, it’s the thought that counts.

“Let me get this straight,” Sara interjects, and for someone who’s now on her third Barracoolada (those things are potent), she’s still rather clear-headed. “Alien-robots copied your brains and now you and Fitz had to leave the rest of your team behind at the Temple of Doom to stop the alien-robots from taking over the world, but then you have to go your separate ways to do it, and you don’t know when you’ll see each other again, but now you and a nice alien-robot have to convert your spaceship—which you converted from a regular plane, by the way, that’s so cool—into a time-traveling space ship?”

An expression of begrudging respect clouds her face. “Huh. And I thought I had it crazy. At least the Waverider came pre-built.”

Jemma sighs. “Remember the first time we met and you came to rescue me from the people HYDRA sent to tail me? Those seemed like simpler times.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sara chides, taking a sip of her drink before setting it down on the end table next to the couch. “You forget a few days after that _I died_ , and then got revived over a year later.”

They share a laugh about the incredulity of it all, living in a world where death wasn't quite permanent and time travel was apparently the latest craze to hit the town. Maybe Jemma had a point: Being undercover agent and assassin, respectively, for ancient shady organizations was now beginning to sound like a walk in the park.

“Oh! I almost forgot—the thing you asked,” Sara rummages through the rucksack she had brought from the jump ship and takes out a small silver case. “It took some tricky time traveling and a lot of wheedling from Gideon, but I managed to get to a Lazarus Pit in the past.”

She flips open the case to reveal several vials of clear fluid. “Waters from the Lazarus Pit,” she offers. “You really think it’s going to help Melinda May? There's… side effects, just so you know." Her face darkens, reliving the memory. "I lost my soul, they had to bring in a magician to restore it to me.

“I know you like to say magic’s just science we don’t understand yet,” Sara continues, locking the case closed and passing it on to Jemma. “But I’d feel a lot better giving this to you if you promise you’ll call me for help when you need it.”

Jemma’s smile is brittle yet sincere, holding on to the case tightly. Memories of May being stabbed by a man wearing the face of the one she loved flash through her head, and suddenly everything hurts again. She’s going to make sure May will be alright, even if it meant dabbling in things she didn’t quite understand yet, and even more so if it meant asking help from someone who’s offering. “I promise.”

Sara notices Jemma’s change in demeanor and pulls her close into a hug. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, Jemma. I got you.”

“Thanks,” she sniffles. “I’m really glad you came.”

Eventually, Sara tugs her to her feet. “Come on, that serum can wait another day. You have time. Put some warm clothes on, I want to show you something.”

* * *

_Coordinates: Unknown_

_Now_

“Alright, buckle in!” Sara instructs, then pauses almost comically. “Should I even be warning you? You know how this goes already, right?”

Jemma shrugs as she secures herself in the seat next to her. “Perhaps? I’ve traveled through space before, but not time in a spaceship, though I’m not quite sure where we’re going.”

“Ah.” The White Canary turns back to plotting their course and completing their pre-flight checks, making sure everything was in working order. “Okay, all set. Gideon, take us away!”

“Right away, Captain Lance. And enjoy your ride, Dr. Simmons,” Gideon’s cool voice fills the aircraft, and the thought of adding an AI to control the Zephyr One briefly crosses Jemma’s mind. Maybe if there’s time, she thinks, though autopilot mode is most certainly in the books especially when she doesn’t know how long May will take to recover.

The Waverider’s jump ship lifts off from the snow, flying with the grace reminiscent of her captain, and they head off into the distance, disappearing from the Earth in a flare.

Jemma suddenly finds herself in a world of emerald and onyx, like she’s in the middle of an endless Aurora Borealis, only richer and much darker. The inscrutable patterns, which shift around rather playfully, cast both light and shadow through the ship’s windows, though they reflect especially brighter on Jemma’s face.

There’s a hushed silence as she takes it all in, eyes alive with marvel and curiosity, overwhelmed and humbled all at once. She glances briefly at Sara, who’s looking at her with a fond expression and a grin. “Welcome to the Temporal Zone,” the other woman offers by way of explanation.

“It’s beautiful,” Jemma whispers in awe. “Do you get to be here all the time if you time-travel?”

“It’s a safe space most of the time,” Sara answers matter-of-factly. “We end up here often in between missions, so we can do repairs on the Waverider or prepare for another jump without being detected.”

Jemma falls back in silence, her mind running with questions and thoughts, yet mostly overwhelmed with the sheer vastness of it all. “I wish Fitz could’ve seen this,” she whispers, and in those few words, she finally fully lets her guard down and shows her vulnerability. “I just miss him so much and don’t know when I’ll even see him and everyone else again.”

Sara reaches out between them and takes Jemma’s hand in hers. “Look at me,” she directs, waiting until Jemma finally does, eyes shining with unshed tears and shoulders shaking in a silent sob. “Listen, I won’t pretend I understand what you’re going through or what you need to do. But you’re Jemma Simmons the biochemist extraordinaire and one of the smartest, most brilliant people I know. If anyone can figure out how to save the world, it’s you. I believe it, and I know you do, too.”

Jemma's full-on crying now, letting tears fall freely down porcelain skin. "Fitz and May and everyone else is counting on you now and you can't let them down," Sara continues, running a hand across her friend's shoulders and back. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself too, because otherwise how can you take care of your team?”

“You have _time_ , Jemma. Time is a gift. And just know that you're not alone, okay?" At this, Jemma looks up at the timestream once more, contemplating its immensity and possibilities. "You can always call on me—hey, we're both badass captains of time ships now! Anything you need from the Waverider, it’s yours. We have a mean fabrication room that prints out the most amazing costumes.”

A gown, as emerald as the Temporal Zone, perhaps in silk to mimic the fluidity of the lights here—perfect for Daisy, she thinks, if they ever get to the '30s. Butter-soft vintage leather for May, maybe undercover as a pilot in World War II—that wouldn't be too much of a stretch, since women were outflying men at that time. A bespoke suit would look absolutely devastating on Mac. Pants only for Yo-Yo as heavens knew that woman would never wear a skirt. Whimsical ties, she knew the LMD Phil Coulson would appreciate.

Jemma brushes away her tears, and with that, the longing to have everyone back. No use dwelling on the past for now, not when that was still to come in the future. All she has is the present, and right now that meant the friend in front of her.

"Thank you, Sara," she whispers, pulling back from their embrace but reaching out to clasp Sara's hands into her own.

“I got you, Jem,” Sara reassures. “I got you.”

**END.**


End file.
